


A Nurse's Calling [Alt. The Boogeyman's Original Obsession]

by Writers_Glitch



Category: Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, I wanted to write more but i got lazy, It's super cute too!!, this was so fun to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 22:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20161237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writers_Glitch/pseuds/Writers_Glitch
Summary: Michael Myers—The six-year-old killer of Haddonfield in 1963—was now successfully being held in a sanitarium. Over the years of his capture, the town of Haddonfield tried building around the tragedy and it soon became an urban legend.Inside the walls of Smith's Grove, a kind soul was happy to treat him like anyone else should. Unbeknownst to her, she would soon become the first object of obsession—one person The Shape and Michael Myers agreed to protect with their very lives.And the woman just so happened to be his caretaker.





	A Nurse's Calling [Alt. The Boogeyman's Original Obsession]

**Author's Note:**

> ★Special thanks to @rottenplantt on Tumblr for allowing me to use their art to create this lovely, self indulgent Michael Myers story! (You can find the art here, on their old side account→https://chaoticrottenbitch.tumblr.com/post/167769346072/hospital-mikey-and-a-suspiciously-caring-nurse) 
> 
> ★Michael Myers & The Shape are two different entities/personalities that share one body and in the majority of my fics, and this is one of them! Sorry if I accidentally made Michael a little out of character(?)
> 
> ★ Please Enjoy!

_Smith's Grove Sanitarium, Room 45: Smith's Grove, Illinois | October 31st, 1977_

Fourteen years—it had collectively been fourteen years since that fateful day in his home in Haddonfield; the day in which he took the life of his elder sister, Judith Myers.

From any other person's view, Michael Myers was a troubled child with some kind of medical condition (which was always the case, supposedly) which led to his life in a sanitarium instead of a prison. He's sure to become better once the situation had been assessed, they said—There's got to be something wrong with his brain, they said. They were right, in a way—it was the voices that plagued the corners of his mind, that told him to do things he couldn't comprehend at such a young age beside the obvious. The would never stop babbling in his head, telling him to kill and hurt and sate their hunger. They silenced temporarily after the death of his sister, his mind finding peace and rest even though he was being taken away from his family. In his mind, he knew that they would probably hate him now, for he had stolen one of two daughters from their futures.

His sentence was 15 years in the sanitarium outside of his home town of Haddonfield, entrusting a child psychiatrist to take care of him and figure out what had caused him to take the life of his sibling. Michael remained silent as the man insisted on trying to break the walls he had begun to build around himself—even at a young age, Michael knew that the man that was supposed to help him would only do further damage to him. He had already spoken ill about him not even being around him for a full day, and from that point, Michael Myers shut himself out from the world. Michael had sewn his mouth shut, for this man, Dr. Samuel Loomis, would not be the one to break him.

Each day, for fourteen years, his schedule remained the same: Eat, Exercise, Testing, Eat, Bathe and then Sleep. Testing varied around Dr. Loomis' patience with the silent statue of a man, whom only seemed to mature faster than anyone in the sanitarium. Even so, Michael never faltered on his continuous behavior—he never expected to change, unless a day comes where he found someone or something to care for, which seemed to be today.

"Michael?" Doctor Loomis' normal, annoying voice filled the air as he cocked an eyebrow—this was out of his normal schedule, one he seemed so keen on sticking too, which meant something had happened or he was getting a new caretaker. If he remembered correctly, he had three previous caretakers that left earlier than Loomis had expected, making absolutely no progress with the statue of Michael Myers. His head hung low as he watched two pairs of shoes stand in front of him, one familiar and one unfamiliar—so his hypothesis was right, it seemed he was getting a caretaker. "Hello, Mister Myers," The woman in front of him spoke, making his head crane upwards to look at her as she properly introduced herself. She wore a sanitarium-issued nurse's uniform, her hair worn down with the headband resting atop her head. Her eyes were closed as she smiled delightfully, giving a slight curtsey as Michael took in her presence. Unlike everyone else he'd been stuck with, her presence brought a sense of comfort and safety to him as the voices went eerily silent for the first time in a long while.

As Loomis explained to her the duties of being Michael's caretaker, he watched her every move. She acted sweet and was quite enthusiastic about taking care of him, which made a very light blush dust his cheeks. After Loomis' long "introduction" to handle him, he left them alone as overdue silence settled in. Michael watched as she pulled up another chair, sitting herself parallel to him as she set her clipboard down in her lap. "May I have your hand, Michael?" She suddenly asked, complying with her request as she rubbed a circle in the back of his hand. "Since I know you don't like to talk, I know a way we can communicate instead," She explains, drawing a circle in his hand. "That means yes," She proceeds to draw a line, "This means no." She continues to give little drawings as answers to him, Michael giving a low grumble that he understands as she smiles.

That smile, somehow, made The Shape melt away for the time being.

_Smith's Grove Sanitarium, Room 45: Smith's Grove, Illinois | Christmas Eve, 1977_

Over the past couple of months, Michael's new caretaker had shaken his world. She spent every day with him, taking care of every little thing that needed to be fixed or prepared for him. Even if he didn't say anything, she seemed to understand him just by staring into his eyes. His whole schedule was changed and switched (after a good chat with Dr. Loomis) and now worked around what Michael seemed to want to do—he guessed she probably convinced the doctor that changing his schedule would help his progression to speak and become more social.

It's Christmas Eve, the majority of the nurses and other officials gone for today and sure to return in a couple of days—but he was surprised to see that she was in today, rather than being with some type of family she was sure to have. With a cock of his head to the side and very wonky sign language, she just smiled at him. "Well," She began, sitting next time him on his bed this time, "My biological father left myself and my brothers when myself and my older brother were teenagers and my younger brother was about 10. He was never worth my time, since he decided to leave us for materialistic items, so it's been my siblings along with my stepfather and my mother. They live in California, while I came out here because of a long distance scholarship. Weird, isn't it?"

Michael's eyes pooled with pity—so she couldn't go back home? "Don't worry about little old me," She spoke up, noticing his faltering expression as she held his hand with her signature smile. "You've basically become family now, because I'll be taking care of you for a good while!" Her happy expression was enough for him, her arms wrapping around his frame as he slumped tiredly—he had forgotten how long he had taken to exercise due to boredom. Shifting to lay his head in her lap, she grabbed a brush from her small purse and began to brush softly as he drifted off to take a small nap.

The soft, ambient Christmas music played over the overcome as her fingers threaded through his brown locks, his usual stiff shoulders softened as he shifted to lay on one side. Snow pressed cold kisses to the glass on his window as she hummed the familiar tune of Silent Night to herself and Michael.

Of course, living alone was something most people her age was used to, but it was a tad bit lonely if not for every happy day she spent at the sanitarium. When she wasn't caring for Michael, she liked to communicate with the rather quiet patients to give them some kind of comfort—she was naturally kind, reminding children and people her age that kindness and compassion still exist behind closed and locked doors. Her usual gifts involved many fun games for the many children in the children's hospital wing, reading/signing to the blind/deaf and doing her best to calm down the mentally unstable.

Unbeknownst to all of her patients, she never really left the sanitarium—she lived here.

Of course, it was quite odd to live at your workplace, but it was better than having to leave and come back everyday—in turn, it gave her lots of time with all of her favourites until she had to clock out and get some rest. Besides, the sanitarium was happy to provide food without having their employees go out of their way to buy some. Of course, she was paid hearty wages for working with patients, and the best part was that she thoroughly enjoyed her job. Laying his head back on the pillows, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek as she rose from the bed, leaving a necklace for the young man.

"Merry Christmas, Michael."

_Smith's Grove Sanitarium, Room 45: Smith's Grove, Illinois | October 25th, 1978_

Dr. Loomis was absolutely ecstatic at the small but progressive progress that Michael had begun to make.

Over the past (about to be) year, it took a kind soul who never backed down on any challenge to make the statue persona Michael Myers had kept for fourteen years to start weathering away, slowly but surely. She loved her job and Michael seemed to do a whole lot better when she was around, so it was quite a win/win situation! His violent fits around other patients had dwindled down to 1% and his shoulders softened when she gave a comforting touch. Still, he has yet to speak, but Loomis knew that the day would come when he was sure to speak—not in his presence, but her own.

Dr. Loomis was not able to monitor the audio inside of the cell (a request made by the lovely nurse to insure privacy to a vast majority of older patients), but he trusted her enough that there was no need to hear anything, due to the fact it would only be her. Most days, Loomis would stay up late to make sure she was okay, unable to sleep or slept during the day. It was about 9:00pm when he sat in front of his monitor to watch the two "talk" to each other, a cup of hot steaming coffee in his hands. It was time for her to clock out, when he noticed Michael tug on the edge of her dress.

"Michael, I need to go," She spoke sadly, a soft little frown on her face as she held her clipboard close to her chest. She watched his face falter as pity struck her features, a soft "I'm sorry" leaving her lips as she turned to the door. What happened after she turned made her gasp in surprise and Dr. Loomis drop his coffee from the other side of the facility.

"Please..." Michael had accidentally blurted out, a thought rolling off his tongue as it echoed through the room. "Di...did you just---??" She spoke, absolutely surprised at his sudden use of voice, Michael's eyes widened to the size of saucers as he realised what he had done. Her face softened as she muttered under her breath, surprised when he flung himself to hug her midsection and settled his face there. "Gosh," She muttered, a hand softly stroking his hair as everything sunk in. She had made him talk without meaning to and she was no doubt embarrassed but proud to be the one who did make him speak—unbeknownst to her, Michael was also happy.

She had been the one to break him, to slip out of his shell and finally reveal the beautiful butterfly hiding in the cocoon. Inside Loomis' office, his chair slowed down it's spinning, the doctor having left the room to check up on the two.

If he had only stayed for a little bit longer, his eyes would've seen the first fluid and happy movements from his long-term patient as he raised his head from her midsection and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to her lips.


End file.
